Photo Prompt Challenge Tuesdays
by romanticvamp11
Summary: Weekly one-shots based on photo prompt challenges from Nostalgicmiss. Pictures can be seen at picprompt dot blogspot dot com. Rated M just to be safe.
1. Week 8: Burnt Bridge

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight, no matter how much I wish I could. I'm just playing with the characters.**

A/N: Check out picprompt(dot)blogspot(dot)com to see the pictures that accompany this o/s and all the other amazing authors!

* * *

I stretch with a small groan, reaching out for the body that should be beside me. My fingers meet an empty pillow and twisted sheets. I open my eyes, blinking in the soft light coming through the curtains. The bed is empty. I'm in it all alone.

I push myself onto my elbows, looking all around the large room. It's empty besides me. I flop down onto my back, sighing in slight frustration. I can't help but wonder what the use of sleeping with someone is when you don't wake up next to them.

Movement in my peripheral vision catches my attention. I turn my head and smile at the sight before me. He's coming through the balcony doors, his eyes still fixed on the paper in one hand and a mug of coffee in the other. He's pulled on his underwear for decency's sake. Though I like him better naked, his perfect body is still on display. He glances at me and, seeing I'm awake, comes to the bed. He drops the paper and sets his mug on the nightstand.

"Good morning," he murmurs, placing a kiss on my lips.

"Good morning yourself," I smile.

He crawls in beside me, propping his head up on his hand so he can look down at me. We both have matching, goofy smiles on our faces. I reach up and run my fingers through his sex hair.

"I like waking up with you in my bed," he says.

"I would like waking up next to you if you were actually here when I woke up."

The smile falls from his face and I recognize the look creeping across his face. I know what's coming now.

"Don't," I warn.

"Baby . . . it could be like this every day. If you would just think about it . . ."

He has successfully killed my happy, freshly-sexed buzz in a matter of seconds. This argument has been had countless times. I told him last time I wouldn't hear it again. Looking into his eyes, I realize he remembers this.

I pull away, taking the sheet with me. I quickly scramble off the bed, grabbing for my clothes and pulling them on.

"What are you doing?"

I don't even look at him as I say, "Leaving."

"Don't do this," he pleads.

"I told you. I like my life the way it is. I don't want to change it."

He watches me in silence as I finish dressing and slip my feet into my shoes. I toss the sheet at him and walk out of the bedroom to find my bag. I can hear his footsteps behind me on the stairs.

"You don't have to change much."

"For what you want, yes, I do."

I find my bag and check to make sure everything is inside it. I grab my keys and go to the door. He catches my arm, bringing me around to face him.

"So you're okay with me being your hidden lay? What are you keeping from me? What are you ashamed of?"

I stare at him. If only he knew I wasn't ashamed. That there is nothing to be ashamed of with him. He is perfection, caring and gorgeous. He is everything I want and everything I should hold onto.

Except I can't.

"No. This is over."

The look on his face makes me pause as I open the door. Pure devastation has twisted his beautiful features. I can feel his hurt as a tangible force in the room. It makes me want to run to him and hold him. I want to comfort him, but I have to leave. I can't hurt him anymore.

I can't be what he wants me to be.

I pull away from his house, not allowing myself a backward glance. I keep driving past all the silent houses whose inhabitants are still sound asleep. I pass the marina, pulling onto the bridge that connects what used to be my own personal paradise to my reality. I can feel the tears starting in my eyes as the city begins to come into view.

I used to view this bridge as my escape. How I loved the sight of it, knowing I was only minutes from him. Knowing that once I drove over it, I was free from my everyday life.

By the time I've finished crossing, I can't hold back the tears. I quickly pull over, trying to bring myself back under control. Finally, I allow myself to look back. All I can see is the bridge. I stare at it as cars pass me.

I could go back. I could cross it again and run back to him. I could keep arguing with him. I could try to make it work.

But all I can see is his pain and I can't help but think I've burned that bridge. I can't turn back.


	2. Week 9: He Was Here

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight, no matter how much I wish I could. I'm just playing with the characters.**

A/N: Check out picprompt(dot)blogspot(dot)com to see the pictures that accompany this o/s and all the other amazing authors!

* * *

**Isabella Swan – July 2010**

I dumped the rest of the dirty water out into the empty planter. Wiping my hair out of my eyes, I turned to my now clean car, smiling. It was still early-ish and I had washed my car. I felt accomplished. Now I just needed to change the oil.

My smile faded at that thought.

I quickly put away all the soap and threw the rags in the washing machine before grabbing the new containers of engine oil and filter. I went back outside, grabbing the water bucket and replacing it in the garage. I hesitated over the oil bucket, glancing at the covered table in the back corner.

_Do I want to do this?_

I took a step toward it.

**Isabella Swan - April 2004**

I flew down the stairs at the sound of the knock, my heart beating double time at the possibility of who I thought it was. Charlie looked up from his paper, a scowl on his face. I simply shrugged at him and pulled the door open.

"Hi," I breathed.

Perfection smiled down at me. He took my face in his hands and crashed his lips to mine hungrily. I clung to him, reveling in the feel of his soft lips caressing mine. It was always like this, the passion and the adoration and pure, selfless love.

He pulled back, flashing me his crooked grin. "Hi."

I tugged him inside, his emerald eyes dancing with joy as I shut the door behind him. He greeted my father and got a grunt in response. I hesitated in the living room, watching Charlie on the couch. With a shrug, I pulled him up the stairs to my room.

"Bella," Charlie warned.

"We'll keep the door open!" I called.

I heard his musical chuckle behind me. I hesitated briefly in front of my closed door before steeling myself and flinging the door open. I let him go before me. He stepped in and took in his surroundings with an amused expression on his face.

I should've been nervous letting him see my room for the first time, but I wasn't. Maybe with any other boy, but not him. I watched him stroll slowly around, looking at the random knick knacks I had collected and the pictures I had hung on the walls. He reached my desk, glancing at it briefly and doing a double take. He bent down closer, his eyes narrowing. A huge smile broke across his face. I flushed.

"Um . . . that is . . . really old . . ." I stammered as he ran his fingers across the surface.

He beckoned me to his side. We both stood staring down at the wood top of my desk where multicolored inscriptions had been left by myself, Angela, Jessica, and Lauren, old memories from childhood sleepovers and play dates when we were all friends.

_Angela was here._

_I love M.N. – Jessica_

_Friends forever._

I smiled at them, tracing the heart outline we had made with all our names. I missed them. Angela and I were the only ones who were still genuine friends.

"Do I get a spot on here?" he murmured against my neck, pulling my body into his.

"Of course."

He chose my favorite green sharpie, almost the same color as his eyes, and found the biggest blank space he could. He began writing, blocking his elegant script from my curious eyes with his shoulders. I waited behind him, dancing from foot to foot. When he finally finished and stepped back, I eagerly looked to see what he had written.

_Isabella Swan_

_I promise to love you every moment of forever. My heart belongs to you. Always._

_Edward Cullen_

I launched myself at him. He just barely caught me and we tumbled back onto my bed.

"I love you, Bella."

"I love you, Edward."

We spent the afternoon cuddling, promising each other forever, stealing heated, gentle kisses. If there had ever been a moment I wanted to be stuck in forever, this was it. I was safe in his arms, loved and wanted. He was mine and I was his. Forever.

**Isabella Swan – July 2010**

My hand paused over the heavy cloth covering. Did I want to reopen this wound? I squeezed my eyes shut and yanked it off, staring down at my old desk.

The childhood inscriptions had faded some. It was understandable, given they were over ten years old. It was the fresher, bright green writing that stood out. Tears started in my eyes, my heart twisting as I struggled for breath.

All the memories came back to me.

Over our time together, Edward had added more promises of love, had recorded times of joy. I ran my fingers over them, imagining his concentrated look, chaotic bronze hair falling across his forehead and into his emerald eyes. Green smudges across the pale skin of his fingers, results of my attempts to see what he was writing before he had finished.

I couldn't bear to part with my desk. It was a tangible reminder that he had loved me, if only for a little bit. It was a reminder of happier times.

I replaced the covering and turned to leave. I couldn't bear to change the oil today. I had learned how to do it myself just so I could impress him. Especially since he knew how to do everything.

I made my way back into the house, brushing away a few stray tears. I fought back the enormous ache starting in my heart.

I still didn't know why he stopped talking to me. Everything had been perfect until it suddenly wasn't. We had kissed each other goodnight and then I had never heard from him again. It was like he disappeared from the earth. I couldn't get in touch with him when I tried. The only time I ever heard anything was when I went to visit Charlie and someone mentioned him in passing.

I couldn't understand it, to this day. He wanted to marry me. He loved me, even knowing all my deepest secrets. And I loved him, knowing all of his. How could he just walk away without a backward glance?

The wound he had left in his wake was still raw. The first year had been the hardest, but eventually, I learned to manage the pain. Now, I only thought of him in passing, but I avoided it as much as I could. Now was one of those times.

As I sank down onto the sofa, holding back sobs, I wondered what had become of Edward Cullen.

**Edward Cullen – July 2010**

I glanced out of the hotel room window to the event set up below. I allowed myself a few moments of hurt, swallowing against the lump in my throat.

"Son?"

I turned to where my father was waiting in the doorway, impeccable as always in his tuxedo.

"Are you ready?"

I nodded.

"Then let's go," he smiled.

I followed him down, taking my proper place next to my brothers. I tried to disconnect myself, tried to ignore the way my heart was shattering.

A strawberry blonde came down the aisle, wrapped in white. She smiled, blushing like the bride she was. I stepped down, taking her from her father and leading her to stand before the preacher.

As he began welcoming our friends and family, I caught a flash of mahogany hair in the corner of my eye. I turned my head to the late guest, my heart swelling with hope. As she turned, my heart plummeted. The blue eyes and sun tanned skin was not what I wanted. She wasn't here.

A sharp tug on my hand brought my attention back to Tanya. She was smiling at me, but her grey eyes were sharp, glaring. She wasn't the one I wanted standing next to me at the altar. I didn't want this.

She saw my wavering. Her nails dug sharply into my palm.

I turned back to the preacher, closing my eyes. I was doing this for the girl I loved. I was doing this to save her.


	3. Week 10: Five Minutes

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight, no matter how much I wish I could. I'm just playing with the characters.**

A/N: Check out picprompt(dot)blogspot(dot)com to see the pictures that accompany this o/s and all the other amazing authors!

* * *

A young brunette stepped away from her friends. The sorrow and longing in her brown eyes didn't fit with the rowdy, drunken partying her friends had dragged her along for. Now that they were sufficiently inebriated – with a little help from herself – she was free to sneak away for a few minutes.

Sitting at the bar, a young man with impossibly bronze hair, waiting for his next shot at the pool table, watched as she detached herself from the happy couples. She looked impossibly sad, almost inappropriately so given the carefree group she was a part of.

She wandered over to a quiet corner, stumbling slightly in her heels. Wiping an errant tear away, she checked her phone for the millionth time that day. Her heart sank yet again when she saw no message.

_If only I hadn't walked away. If only I had been strong enough._

That was all she had left. The "If only's" and "What if's" were her only companions in the large bed she now slept in alone every night.

She tucked the Blackberry back into her pocket and let her hair fall around her face for privacy as she gave into the misery she felt for a few moments. She did not know that someone was watching her every move on the other side of a rather large crowd. All she wanted was time to feel the pain before she allowed herself to join her friends and forget.

She leaned against the wall, pushing back the ever-present tears. Whether it was the noise of the bar or the fearlessness her drunk friends were displaying, she suddenly felt an impressive jolt of confidence. She fished the phone out of her pocket and typed in a quick message, her finger hovering over the send button as she reread it.

_Can we please talk, for even five minutes? It's been over a month and I miss you. A lot._

Her teeth worried her bottom lip as she considered the consequences of this bold move. He could answer, and she would have to hear his voice and possibly see his gorgeous face. Or he could completely ignore it and leave her feeling completely humiliated.

At that point, she wasn't sure which one sounded worse.

Taking a deep breath, she pressed the button. She tucked her hair back behind her ears and made her way back to the table, feeling just a tiny bit better and just a tiny bit worse.

At the bar, settling back onto a stool with his cue stick, he felt his phone vibrate against his thigh. His jaw clenched as he realized it was probably his co-worker who had an unhealthy obsession with him and was constantly asking him out for a drink and a lay. He hesitated, wanting to ignore it, but reached into his pocket a few moments later.

His breath hitched when he saw who it was from.

His eyes shot to her table, finding her sitting and nursing a drink, a slow smile making itself known. He was losing his chance. He quickly typed a response and sent it on its way.

He didn't miss the moment she jumped and reached for her phone. He didn't miss the way her chocolate eyes narrowed at the screen before scanning the crowd. Nor did he miss when they found him and widened in surprise.

He began to make his way through the crowd to her.

She watched as he slid down from the bar, replacing his cue and moving toward her with all the usual grace. The month apart had only made him more beautiful and only increased her desire and love for him. She excused herself quickly and started toward him.

She was meeting him halfway.

They stopped in front of each other, eyes drinking the other in. He waited patiently for her to speak as she had made the initiative. This time, it was up to her to make the first move.

"I just want five minutes. I just wanted to talk to you," she promised.

His hands surrounded her face eagerly, his lips finding hers with desperation and all the longing from their time apart. She clung to him, startled, but nonetheless enjoying it and all the promises of reconciliation and unconditional love it held.

He kissed her for five minutes.


	4. Week 13: The Funeral

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight, no matter how much I wish I could. I'm just playing with the characters.**

A/N: Check out picprompt(dot)blogspot(dot)com to see the pictures that accompany this o/s and all the other amazing authors!

I had a wedding I had to plan and be a bridesmaid in so, between dealing with finishing touches and actually attending the thing, I missed weeks 11 and 12.

* * *

I try not to look at everyone as they file in. They are quiet, grieving, whether sincerely or just for show. Still, I can hear every one of their thoughts over the scattered hushed conversations. I try to block them out, try to keep my attention forward. The grief isn't hard to fake.

Alice slips her hand into mine, giving it a gentle squeeze for comfort. I pull away, refusing to accept it. Esme looks at me from Alice's other side in distress. Carlisle is trying to encourage me with his thoughts from my other side.

The parents flanking their grief-stricken children, the best friend and the boyfriend of Isabella Swan.

Everyone knows it was a horrid accident. She was out camping with the Cullen family when she tumbled too far. Her body was too broken to save, too mangled to be shown.

The whole town of Forks has turned out to see the dark cherry casket, closed and adorned with flowers. They've all lit a candle on the large display next to it as a symbol of remembrance. From where we sit in the front row, we can see everyone as they leave a flame burning for her.

I glance across the aisle to the other front bench. If my heart was still beating, it would be stuttering with the image that greets me. Her mother is sobbing quietly into her husband's chest. Both their thoughts are focused on the times they shared together and how that will never happen again. Charlie is next to them, but very alone. His face is twisted into an excruciating expression as he struggles not to cry, his head bowed so no one can see. His muted thoughts are empty.

I quickly look away, unable to bear it. I fight against the urge to run. I just want to be back at the house where Rosalie, Emmett, and Jasper have elected to stay. I knew I had to make an appearance.

Everyone finally takes a seat and Reverend Weber begins. His service is good, intended to comfort her friends and family. He touches on her kindness and her friendliness. But he misses the way her skin would flush almost constantly, the way blood would make her pass out, the way she stumbled over nothing. . . .

It's beginning to be too much. I start to fidget, ready to bolt, when a hulking figure slides in between Carlisle and I. I glance at Emmett as he wraps an arm around my shoulders, forcefully holding me in place. Then I realize what he's wearing: jeans, sneakers, and a suit jacket over a t-shirt that says, "Sex Drugs and Homework."

"Seriously, Emmett? You couldn't actually dress up if you were going to come?" I hiss.

_I didn't have enough time to change. Alice just told me I needed to get here. Besides, Izzy would laugh if she saw it._

I roll my eyes and turn my attention back to the service.

At the end, we stand with Charlie, and Renee and Phil. People file past us, expressing their condolences. Emmett is still holding me in place.

Once the chapel is empty, I allow myself to look back. All the candles glittering amidst the flowers is an eerie but beautiful sight.

We attend the graveside, watching as they lower the casket into the ground. I tune out all the thoughts, escaping to a happy place inside my mind.

As everyone begins to leave, I breathe an unnecessary sigh of relief. Until I realize I'm standing at the grave alone with Charlie. I know he blames me. I've caused this pain.

"Edward," he says gruffly.

He catches me by surprise when he pulls me into a one-armed hug. He doesn't say anything, but I get the feeling that all is forgiven. He doesn't blame me as I believed. He should though.

He leaves me alone, walking over to his car where Jacob is standing. I meet the boy's eyes. He is clearly in pain, but accepting of what has happened.

_As much as I hate to admit this, you did everything you could. Don't beat yourself up._

I nod in acknowledgment of his thoughts. I can see the hurt it causes him. He's conceding to the one thing he fought against most.

My family is waiting by the car. I moved toward them so anyone watching would think I got in with them.

Instead, I take off into the woods, desperate to get back to Bella's side as Victoria's venom spreads through her veins.


	5. Week 15: Prints

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight, no matter how much I wish I could. I'm just playing with the characters.**

A/N: Check out picprompt(dot)blogspot(dot)com to see the pictures that accompany this o/s and all the other amazing authors!

* * *

I press my forehead into my hand, twisting my hair through my fingers in frustration. Everything in front of me is, quite frankly, crap.

"What's eating you this time?" Jasper asks, plopping into the chair across the desk.

I don't even bother to look up at my best friend as I pick up another set of prints and grimace.

"Remind me why I do this job . . ."

He chuckles. "You need money, like everyone else. Same reason I'm hitched to your wagon."

I toss those prints down as well. With a heavy sigh, I lean back in my chair, rubbing at my eyes. I'm stuck. Sure, this job pays me pretty fantastic, but at the cost of any originality or creativity. I might as well be working a typical nine to five desk job.

The only redeeming grace – well, beside the money – is that I get to keep Jasper as my assistant. He's not complaining about the paycheck either. He can do this and work on his music and history research on the side without worrying.

I feel a pang of longing for the "old days," when I was fresh out of college and hungry for any opportunity; just me and my camera and my best friend forging our own path. I traveled and did what I loved without a care in the world, determined to be ranked among the greats like Jim Brandenburg or Anne Geddes or, my favorite, Ansel Adams.

My savings had to run out eventually.

Luckily, all the products of mine and Jasper's aimless traveling had caught the eye of some important people. Our talent was recognized and we were hired right away.

I glance over at my baby, snuggled securely away in its case. I didn't have all the fancy equipment I have now. I should at least be grateful for that.

"Hey, call it a night. Let's go get some drinks. We've got another shoot with that Mary Alice Brandon in the morning," Jasper says, his face lighting up.

I barely manage to not roll my eyes. The last shoot I had done with her had been one of the best. At least this designer was adventurous with her style and trusted me enough to let me take the reigns. Even if the magazine hadn't appreciated my own twist, she had asked for some prints to hang up in her studio.

Although, that might have been helped along by a certain assistant trying to charm the pants off of her.

"At least we get a little break in the monotony," I sigh, shoving all the prints back into their folder and packing everything up. Resolving to deal with this boring spread later, I follow my friend out of our offices and down to the bar.

I'm at the shoot site bright and early. The sun still hasn't risen, which is good since our models aren't quite ready. I study the abandoned cabin and wood pile and surrounding woods, my mind running wild with ideas.

"Mr. Edward Cullen!" I hear a bright voice chime behind me.

I turn and find myself chest-to-face with none other than Mary Alice Brandon. Her pale blue eyes are sparkling as she beams up at me, bouncing like she always does. I can't help but smile back at her. She's still the same tiny, elfin-looking thing, her black hair sticking out in effortless spikes.

"Miss Brandon," I acknowledge.

"Oh, please, just Alice. I was so excited to find out you were the photographer again. All of the others are so _boring_."

My lips twitch as I bite back an agreement.

"It's a pleasure, just as it was the first time. Do you have a specific look you're going for?"

"Well, the magazine wants the 'Fall Look,'" she says, complete with air quotes. "Just do whatever you want. I can't tell you how many compliments I get on those prints hanging in my studio. You've got a gift."

Just then, Jasper chooses to appear and schmooze his way into the conversation. I don't miss the hint of coloring that suddenly appears in Alice's cheeks. She flashes him a tiny, almost shy smile, seeming much more sedate than is normal. I turn back to the set, brainstorming as they do their odd little flirting dance.

"I actually picked two of my friends to model my designs this time."

I'm suddenly drawn back in, wondering how this is going to go. Am I going to be dealing with inexperienced, uncooperative people?

"Friends?"

"Yep. They know how to make it all look good. I've been using them as my guinea pigs since college. Well, one since high school . . . but they know what they're doing."

"How'd you pull that one off?" Jasper asks a bit dazedly.

I shake my head and roll my eyes, but Alice is smitten with the complete devotion he is suddenly showing.

"I just told the head honchos if they wanted my Fall Preview, I got to choose the models."

_She is one hell of force._

Alice excuses herself to do some final checks as it begins to get lighter. Jasper finally snaps out of whatever dreamland he had been floating in and decides he'd actually like to participate in this shoot. I am teasing him mercilessly, provoking his normal calm into a riled up, agitated state, when we're interrupted by the models.

The first one is tall, statuesque, blonde waves and deep sapphire eyes. She seems like perfect, cliché model material, but as she introduces herself as Rosalie Hale, I notice the hardness and stubbornness that usually doesn't accompany a normal model. Alice has indeed worked her magic as she looks incredible dressed in a form fitting suit and heels, complete with vest and button-up, generous amounts of beaded necklaces draped around her neck. I quickly set her up on the pile of lumber before turning to the second friend.

I freeze.

There is nothing cliché or model-like about this girl. Her skin is the palest I've ever seen, offset by wide brown eyes and equally brown hair, teased into high-fashion style. When her eyes meet mine, she blushes the brightest shade of red and quickly looks away. As she begins to mumble, I barely hear her say her name is Bella Swan.

I feel as though my world has disappeared. Nothing exists except for the shy girl in front of me, dressed in a high collared jacket and a skirt that is illegally tiny. Her long legs are covered by lacy stockings that end at her thighs and are held up by . . . a ribbon garter belt. I barely even notice the black pumps she has on.

Jasper clears his throat and we both jump. I feel my own face start to burn a little as I direct her to sit up behind Rosalie. I take the camera from my friend in a daze, unable to actually articulate what I want.

Luckily, Jasper seems to be reading my mind. He starts directing them, instructing them on the different poses to try. I move around, snapping away, trying to ignore that every shot I take makes this Bella the focal point of the picture and that her eyes follow me wherever I go, like she can't bear to look away.

After a few hours and several wardrobe changes, the crew starts taking down the equipment. Alice dashes over to me, a sly smile on her face.

"Edward! I can already tell those are going to be wonderful! I can't wait to see them!"

I nod at her, still distracted. And trying to keep my eyes from wandering over to the changing tent . . .

"Edward?"

"Huh?"

"I said Jasper's coming out for drinks tonight. Would you like to join us?"

"I should probably get these proofs out so we can work on the spread." _And so I can look at her a little more._

"Are you sure? Rosalie and _Bella_ are coming."

She's going? I could go with Jasper, get to know her better. Maybe wrestle a date out of it. At the very least, I could get her into my bed for one night. Really, this work could wait . . .

_Bad idea. Bad idea._

"Thank you, Alice, but I'm going to have to take a rain check."

Her face falls a little, but she assures me she'll be following up on that. After they exchange some information, Jasper joins me and we head to the car.

He might as well have gone home and daydreamed about his coming night for all the help he is at the office. I finish the spread I was working on last night while he takes entirely too long getting the proofs printed of Alice's shoot. When he comes back, he hands me the folder and says he's heading out.

"Are you sure you don't want to come? I'm sure a certain brunette -"

"_Goodbye_, Jasper. Enjoy your night."

"Oh I will. You enjoy yours by yourself."

He has the door shut before the empty film cartridge can hit him.

I take a break before getting a start. When I do finally open the folder, I'm assaulted with her face staring up at me. A strange ache starts in my chest. I rub at it uncomfortably as I stare at her smile, her pout, her laugh.

_Focus, Cullen._

It does me no good. Each time I think I've found one where Rosalie is the main focus, my eyes are still drawn to Bella. The more I stare at her picture, the more I realize I want to know her. I want to kiss those pouty lips and know what was said between the friends to make her laugh. Why she smiled like she had a secret.

My head is in my hands as I fight an internal battle. Even with my eyes closed, the prints of her face are burned into my eyes. I can't escape her. I sigh and shut the folder, grabbing my things and leaving the building. I pull out my phone.

"Jasper. Where are you guys?"


End file.
